


Let's Hang Out

by Dr1f7w00d



Series: Dr1f7w00d's Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Waking up Restrained, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, the boys are back in town, with new prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr1f7w00d/pseuds/Dr1f7w00d
Summary: Dean was fighting the restraints now. He had knocked over a tray of tools, a syringe shattering as it hit the vinyl floor. If he broke the restraints, as most patients of the later trials did, Martin would need to go in and sedate him.He didn’t want to do that.
Series: Dr1f7w00d's Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950478
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Let's Hang Out

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Whumptober prompt.
> 
> I am back! With a new list of prompts! That I will hopefully finish this time.

Martin was watching through the glass window when Dean awoke. He was restrained, strapped to the table, and thankfully couldn’t see Martin watching him. He looked so small in the center of the large white observation room. He had been placed there in case there were any unwanted side effects to the new serum. 

This new one had shown promise in other test subjects and was proving to be the most effective. Martin had watched the doctors cycle through patient after patient to get here, and was relieved to know that Dean was getting something that he knew would work. 

As an android, he knew he shouldn’t be feeling such things for a patient. He was created to protect and take care of the test subjects. He shouldn’t be _caring_ for them. But Dean was different. He knew right away that Martin was an android. Broke past all his defenses and made an effort to know him, without any false identity as a human. The other subjects never tried to talk to him, or any other nurse androids. They were only here for the food and the shelter, and didn’t waste time talking to their standoffish caretakers. 

A clatter came from the observation room.

Dean was fighting the restraints now. He had knocked over a tray of tools, a syringe shattering as it hit the vinyl floor. If he broke the restraints, as most patients of the later trials did, Martin would need to go in and sedate him.

He didn’t want to do that.

~~~~~

As Dean fought the restraints, he realized he was alone in the room, with no discernable doors and only a mirror along one wall. Likely a window on the other side. Someone was definitely watching him. He began to tear at the bindings again, trying to rip thick leather. As he worked at this he saw a section of the pristine wall slide away, revealing the door. In stepped a nurse he knew, Martin, who walked to the side of his bed and began picking up the tray that fell. 

“It will be much easier if you stay restrained.”

“I don’t want to.” Dean’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, like he had been yelling.

“I am afraid you don’t have much of a choice. You signed a contract, remember?”

“Well, they left this part out.”

When he agreed to these experiments, he had been desperate. Homeless, no job, and no idea how to get out of the abandoned district. The Forgotten City, they called it, where the poor were driven to when Live Well decided it was best to separate and segregate the classes of society. “Just until we fix things,” they said, “Life will be better here.”

What a bunch of bullshit.

They were still poor, still starving, living in dilapidated buildings that weren’t yet upgraded by Live Well. Live Well may have had the best intentions, but the way they went about solving problems was itself problematic. 

So here Dean was. Two years into a ten-year contract, promised food and a warm bed if he only allow Live Well to use him as a lab rat. He had been poked and prodded and injected with who knows what, and was barely showing signs of what the doctors wanted. 

After a few months of rapid healing and enhanced durability, he was moved to a different part of the facility. One more isolated. More sterile and quiet. But the nurses were still the same. Martin still checked on him every day, made sure he wasn’t dead or hurting himself, and kept him company.

“If you break the leather, I will have to sedate you.”

Oh, right, he was still restrained.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Please, don’t force me.”

As simple as that phrase was, it spoke volumes. A simple please, quiet and soft, from the lips of a machine. Just as it was said, the leather strap holding his right arm snapped.

~~~~~

“I warned you.”

Martin had cleaned the broken pieces of the first syringe, the one meant for this, but he always carried spares in the event a patient became violent and broke one. But Dean wasn’t violent. He only broke one restraint. But he had broken a restraint. He needed to be sedated. But he wasn’t-

He was thinking in circles. A million synthesized neurons firing in a hard drive brain, going round and round a paradoxical problem. 

He had no choice.

“I’m sorry, that was an accident.”

Dean apologized. He looked sad, he regretted his actions.

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to do this.”

Martin held down Dean’s arm, the own with the broken leather laying limply to the side. He grabbed one of the extra syringes from his pocket and lowered it to Dean’s arm, finding the vein he’d easily memorized, recalling the information stored in his processor. 

“Please, don’t, I didn’t mean to. I can’t control my strength anymore, you know that.”

_Please._ Hadn’t he said that, too? Hadn’t he asked for Dean to stop fighting? It hurt to watch him, to hear him plead, but he really had no choice. This was the procedure. This is what he was made for. But he still felt guilty about it. Him, guilty. It was strange to recognize his own emotions, feelings he shouldn’t even have.

He looked at Dean, into his eyes, and only felt even more conflicted. Dean was afraid. Afraid of him? Or of what would happen while he was sedated? Both? Martin was conflicted. He’s been conflicted over his code too many times now, and it was all Dean’s fault.

With the careful precision of someone who has done this a hundred times, because he has, just never to _Dean_ , he finds the vein again and lowers the needle of the syringe. Dean is shaking now, and begins to thrash.

“ _Please._ ”

He tries again, using that word, but Dean doesn’t stop moving. He’s fighting back now, maybe trying to break the restraints on his other arm and legs. Surely this classifies as violent. So, he needs to be sedated. Martin inserts the needle, and Dean doesn’t make a sound. Dean has sat through so many injections, taking so many Live Well drugs, that it doesn’t really hurt anymore. He wasn’t worried about the shot, he was afraid of what will come after.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and he’s afraid too.


End file.
